Trainingwheels
by GLEEful Heart
Summary: Post Mattress. Certain circumstances force Artie and his Mom to relive the events of that fateful day.
1. Chapter 1

_**An introduction-Hello there fellow Gleeks! As you may have already noticed, I'm new here-not to the site per se, I've been reading fanfic for years-just new to publishing my work on it. I don't consider myself a very strong writer, just a shameless fangirl of Kevin's who has finally decided to show her adoration for (him)Artie in the form of a story. This piece will be a rather angsty two-shot immediately following the commercial shoot in 'Mattress'.**_

**_Disclaimer-Glee is the property of FOX, the creators and the writers. However, since said writers have yet to elaborate on anything more than telling us Artie's Mom is "fine" after the accident and his Dad "drives him everywhere", the rest of the Abrams family and this plot has been solely the product of my overactive imagination._**

**_Training-wheels_**

Just as he was about to reach the front porch, Artie's phone started ringing for what was about the seventh time today. He pulled it out of his coat pocket and looked down a the screen. Seeing the all too familiar number he let out a soft sigh, hit the end button and tossed the phone into his lap. "I'm home," he called out as soon as he got inside.

Alicia Abrams rushed out of the kitchen, house phone still in hand, just as Artie was shrugging out of his coat. "Oh thank God," she breathed, a little over dramatically for Artie's liking. He couldn't help but smile up at her anyway.

"Sorry I'm so late. Kurt got suckered into driving the majority of us home since he has the biggest vehicle, just so happens I was second to the last on his route."

"You should have said something when I called you earlier Sweetheart," she replied, taking the coat from his grasp and hanging it up in the entryway closet. _Which time?_ Artie thought jokingly to himself. "One of us would have come to pick you up."

"I know Mom, but it was fine," he answered, shrugging off her constant concern with his award winning grin. "I was fine."

Mrs. Abrams did her best to force a genuine smile but it came off more as one of relief. "Good." She gave his shoulder a squeeze with her free hand as she placed a lingering kiss atop his head. "Now go get washed up for dinner. We were just about to sit down to eat."

Okay, so maybe that wasn't entirely true. Artie knew his mom was holding up dinner just for him and he'd be lying if he said her tendency to overcompensate didn't ever-so-slightly, kinda bother him sometimes. It did-sometimes. But that's just how things were. Obediently, he nodded and headed for his bedroom.

A few minutes later, Artie was finally ready to join the rest of the family around the dinning room table. His seven-year old sister Abbey anxiously waiting for him to pull into the open spot right beside her. After a long string of silence while the platters and bowls were sufficiently passed around, Mr. Abrams was the one to start up the typical dinnertime conversation. "So how was every ones day?".

There was another long pause before Mrs. Abrams finally looked over at her husbands awaiting gaze. "Oh sorry. Mine was fine," she answered distractedly, turning her focus back to watching their oldest son who at the moment, was grinning wildly at his mashed potatoes.

He'd pick up on his wife's nervous energy as soon as he got home, but it was this new distant almost sad expression she wore that puzzled him most. He decided to leave it be for now and continue on with his children. "Andy," he called out next, acknowledging his second oldest who was seated next to his mother. "An-dy?"

When she heard her sons name for the second time without response, Mrs. Abrams was pulled from her own thoughts. As she glanced to her left, she found a thin wire snaking down the side of his neck. "Andrew, what did I say about listening to your I-pod at the dinner table?"

Artie's head sprang up at the increased tone of his mothers voice. She never, _ever _yelled, so when her pitch rose even slightly, something was definitely wrong. He looked cautiously over at his scolded brother who's hand was still clutching where the earpiece had been unceremoniously yanked out. Andy mumbled in reply, "Not to do it."

"Then don't," his mother warned, more softly this time but still a bit clipped. "Now, your father was asking you a question young man. How was your day?"

The eighth-grader just shrugged. "It was alright-I went to school, ate lunch, went to wrestling practice-same as yesterday."

His father wasn't exactly thrilled with the boys lack of detail or enthusiasm, but the reply seemed to pacify him for the moment. He was just about to acknowledge his eldest when Abbey's hand shot up and she began chanting "Pick me, pick me." Artie chuckled at his little sister while their father proceeded to ask her about her day as well. "It was awesome-we had art today and we made leaf collages and then we had pancakes for lunch." Her eyes went as wide as her grin and she giggled. "I got two chocolate milks by mistake." The mood around the table was definitely lightened as the little girl spoke, save for Andy who was rolling his eyes at just about everything that came out of her mouth. "And we couldn't do our math test because Mrs. Morrison couldn't find them and we got to have gym outside-."

"Wow. It sounds like you really did have an awesome day Abbs," Artie concurred, giving her a wink in the process.

She nodded happily but her expression dimmed a little as she continued to poke at her meatloaf. "Yeah we played basketball in gym and it was really great-until Cory threw up all over Amber's shoes."

There were a few groans, a "gross", and even an "eeewww", that followed Abbey's announcement. Mr. Abrams waited for the combined levity and digust to die down before turning his attention to the one person at the table that hadn't gone yet. Never one to beat around the bush, he just came right out and said, "I guess I can judge by the look on your face that your day went well Artie."

A quick yeah was Artie's only reply. After a few seconds of silence, he noticed the four pairs of eyes were still on him. At first he thought that maybe it was because he was still grinning like an idiot, but that wasn't it. Then, the realization of his mistake hit him hard. His family would never buy a one syllable reply from somebody in that good of a mood, especially him. If nothing else, Artie Abrams was a talker. When comfortable and especially with his close friends and family, he was constantly vocal-forever talking, singing, reading aloud, humming. It was the most endearing of the many qualities he had.

Quite aware this fact, Mr. Abrams pressed on. "Just pretty good, hmmm?," There it was, that glimmering spark in his sons eyes, that unmistakable smirk. He chuckled under his breath "Are you going to let us in on what happened today that's you grinning like a Cheshire cat, or do we have to guess?"

"Artie's got a girlfriend?," Abbey shouted excitedly.

Artie lowered his blushing face in embarrassment and laughed. "No Abbs, I don't have a girlfriend." With his head cast down, Artie wasn't able to see how the words he'd just uttered clouded his mothers already saddened expression. Mr. Abrams did. Artie shifted a little before looking back up. "It's just this thing we had to do for Glee club-was really fun."

"So it has something to do with that super important, super long rehearsal you had today," Mr. Abrams deduced playfully while still keeping his eyes trained on his fragile looking wife. Artie smiled bashfully at his dad. "Ahh, it must be some top secret Glee-club-members-only thing us parents can't know about yet."

Artie shrugged. "No, it's not really a secret-or at least it won't be, come tonight during the ten o'clock news." _So much for keeping it a surprise until it airs Stupid. _Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, this was another one of his endearing qualities-the complete inability to be discreet.

The elder Abrams cast each other worried glances. _What could their son and his classmates have done to warrant a slot on the late night news? _

As if reading his parents minds, Andy snickered from across the table. "What'd you guys do-knock over a convenience store?"

Artie ignored his brothers comment but caught the exchange between his parents, and back peddled. "It's not anything bad. In fact it's really, really good." This revelation just made everyone more curious and more anxious as to what this big news was. Artie inhaled deeply, excitedly. "We, um-well, we kinda shot a commercial today."

"Like a real commercial, on tv?," Andy asked incredulously.

Artie shot his brother a quizzical look. "Yes like a real commercial on tv. One that will air tonight. During the ten o'clock news." He must not have been clear before-either that or his brother was really slow.

"You're famous now Artie," Abbey squealed in delight.

"No, not really Abbs-." Artie was just trying to be totally honest, but when he saw the way her smile suddenly turned into a disappointed frown he leaned over and whispered into her ear. "Okay, maybe just a little famous." The smile returned and even bigger than before.

"Was it something to promote the Glee Club?" The question came from his mother and for some reason that surprised Artie. She hadn't spoken a single word in the past twenty minutes, and when she had previously, it was to reprimand his brother. He could tell her voice still wasn't it's normal tone, it cracked and was tired sounding but at least it was something.

"Well not exactly." Artie chose his next words carefully. "I mean I guess we ended up promoting ourselves anyway, but the actual ad was um-for Mattress Land."

Andy nearly spit out his drink when he laughed. "You guys were singing about mattresses?"

Artie frowned slightly. He knew it wasn't exactly the most exciting sounding part to star in but like Rachel said, at least it was getting your foot in the door_. "_Well we did sing yes, but not an actual song about mattresses. We did a routine to Van Halen's Jump."

Mr. Abrams nodded approvingly. "Nice. A piece from my generation."

Artie beamed. "It was so amazing." He rambled on for minutes, recounting every single detail from how they got the part, to the pajamas they wore as costumes-and made it a point to mention that they all got to take theirs home and that his were in his backpack-to the lame script they were supposed to read from, and finally to the half-hour power rehearsal they were allotted to learn both song and choreography. "So we're in this warehouse filled with tons of mattresses. I was up on the stack in the back right corner-well right corner from my point of view but if you're looking at your tv screen-"

Artie's voice trailed off as he saw a look of terror come over his mother as she gasped out in utter disbelief. "You were _on top_ of the mattresses, _in your_ _chair_?"

"Well yeah. But I was safely in the middle of this raise platform that only looks like a mattress, and I had my brakes on the entire time." That piece of information did nothing to quell his mothers concern, nor did what he said next. "It was totally stable, didn't move at all-not even when Santana was jumping next to me."

Mr. Abrams could tell that this might be a good time to step in and redirect where the conversation was clearly headed. "Sounds like you had a lot of fun Son."

"I really did Dad," Artie replied, his smile returning some. "I mean sure, at first I was sorta bummed that I was gonna be stuck in the back waiving a sign that just read "JUMP", but then the gang gave me my own little solo with Tina, Quinn and Mercedes as my backup and that more than made up for it".

"What was it like Artie?" Abbey giggled with delight as she imagined what it would be like to get to jump on her bed without getting in trouble for it.

Artie grinned at his sister. "Well, it was really big in there, and hot, and there was this kind of echo-but the sound guys said they'd be able to fix it before the commercial airs. There were cameras and lights-"

"No, I mean how was it," she interrupted impatiently. "Is it like just jumping on a regular bed or was it like a giant trampoline covered in pillows?"

Andy snickered. "How would he know Stupid? He can't jump," he reminded Abbey. Her only response was the protrusion of her tongue in his direction.

"Actually Andy, it turns out I can jump," Artie countered, shifting excitedly. His hands were becoming just as animated as his voice as he continued with his explanation. "It only took one take to shoot the commercial. Mr. Cusperberg the owner, was so pleased with us that he let us have some extra time on the mattresses. Before I knew what was going on, Puck and Finn carried me back down from the fake mattress and tossed me onto the real one just below. Honestly, I would've been fine to just lay there and take a nap, but then Mike and Brittany came up, one on either side of me, and asked me if I wanted to jump."

Artie grabbed his phone and pulled up the picture as proof and waved it around the table so everyone could see. "I guess it might be considered more like bouncing, but after a while I was getting some pretty good air."

Just as the photo was about to enter her field of vision, Mrs. Abrams cried out. "Arthur, what in the world were you thinking?" The shrillness of her voice startled him, but before he had a chance to form a coherent reply, she continued, "Having your friends lift and carry you without being properly trained and allowing them to jump around you while you're lying right under their feet is dangerous at best-not to mention the liability of that owner for having a minor, in a wheelchair no less, parked on top of a pile of mattresses. Your teacher should be ashamed of himself for letting something like that-."

"Mr. Shue doesn't know," Artie admitted quietly.

"Doesn't know?" she scoffed. Artie shook his head solemnly. "If the school wasn't involved, then how did you get permission to do this?". One step ahead of her, Artie was already pulling the paper out of his backpack. Mrs. Abrams took one look at it and turned to her husband in shock. "You knew about this?"

"What? No, I had no idea," Mr. Abrams assured her.

All eyes fell back onto Artie. He was definitely starting to feel the pressure. "You guys weren't home yet and I was the only one who still needed permission. I didn't want to hold things up and this was the only time we could do it. They had to shoot the commercial today-."

"So you forged your fathers signature!" He couldn't decide if his mothers statement was in the form of a question or not, but considering the tone she used when she said it, it really didn't matter all that much.

"No, not exactly," he replied meekly. "I signed mine-it just so happens that me and Dad have the same exact name." Mrs. Abrams covered her face with her hands in defeat. Artie tried again. "Mom. It was just supposed to be a few speaking parts. You know, look pretty and smile. But then we decided to do this number and by then it was too late to turn back." While he paused to take a breath, a small smile began to tug at the corner of his mouth. "Besides, it was probably the most fun I've had in a really long time".

His words were soft and honest and they tugged at Mrs. Abrams heartstrings. She slowly lifted her her face from her hands. "I understand Sweetheart, but don't you realized badly you could have been hurt if something went wrong? I mean what it someone fell on you, or you slipped off-."

"Mom, I'm constantly getting jumped on," he countered, shooting his little sister a very pointed look, "and it's not like I never fall or bump into things." He was suddenly having a hard time suppressing the laugh that was building up inside of his chest. God, if she only knew half of the things that went on at school-getting knocked from his chair, the patriotic wedgie, the dumpster toss, how the guys had to carry him chair and all, into and out of the auditorium everyday before the new ramps were installed. "And if Finn and Puck would've dropped me on my butt, it's not like I would've felt it anyway."

The jibe was hit, but apparently only with those at the table who were under the age of seventeen. Artie almost didn't catch his mothers muffled "excuse me" over all the noise, as she quickly sprung from the table.

"Nice one genius," Andy taunted, still chuckling.

Artie glanced over at his father apologetically. "It was just a joke Dad."

"I know Ace," he replied, using Artie's nickname as a form of comfort. "Your mom's just been kind of-off today." He looked through the doorway into the kitchen where his wife had retreated mere seconds before.

"No Dad," Artie called out as his father was preparing to stand, presumably to follow his mother. "I'll go." Mr. Abrams nodded and sat back to finish the cooling meal he was suddenly no longer hungry for.

Artie found her standing over the sink, her back to him. "Mom?"

"Oh hey Honey." She did a lousy job of masking her voice as she tried discretely to dry her eyes. It didn't work. "I was just getting the pie."

"But we aren't finished eating yet," Artie reminded her.

A shaky laugh escaped her lips as she walked over to the oven to turn it on, her back still to him. "I know. I just wanted to heat it up a bit. I know how you kids like it when the warm pie melts your ice cream."

Artie pushed forward. "Do you need any help?" he offered coming to a stop near the center island.

"No thanks," she replied, busying herself with getting the dessert plates out of an upper cabinet.

Artie sighed heavily and scanned the room, trying to figure out what he could do to help his mom. He was just about to offer to make the coffee, when he caught sight of the stack today's mail off to his right. He immediately singled out the large white envelope with bold black print, addressed to him. Ohio State Department of Motor Vehicles-You, the Handicapped Driver. _Crap. Of all the days, this had to show up today? _If it had been any other Thursday Artie would have gotten home after Glee Club rehearsal in time to intercept the mail. Thursdays his Mom always went to the office for the afternoon before heading straight to Abbey's school to pick her up and take her to her ballet class while Dad would go right from work to pick up Andy from wrestling.

It was all starting to make sense now.

"Look Mom, I'm sorry about not telling you guys-."

"I'm sorry too Sweetheart-."

They spoke over each others words. Mrs. Abrams forced out a small smile as she finally turned to face him. Their eyes only met for a second before her gaze fell to his hand, still fingering the corner of the parcel. "You're not really mad about the commercial thing, are you?" Artie asked gently.

"Oh yes I am," she replied quickly and honestly.

"But it's not the only thing that's bothering you. Right?"

Artie was always so good at that-reading people. Mrs. Abrams looked away and reflexively shrugged. It was the only response she could muster considering her throat had seized up and she was fighting hard to control the tears that were threatening to fall. She moved slowly along the island and picked up the envelope, carrying it to the kitchen table where she sat down silently. Artie followed, spinning around and giving one big push to cross the short distance. He pulled up beside her, having first moved the kitchen chair that was in his way. He could have just as easily swung around the table to the open spot that was left for him, but for some reason Artie knew his mother needed him close.

While she sat there, wringing her hands nervously in her lap, Artie took the time to study her. Aside from inheriting his fathers dark hair and bad vision, the rest of him was all his mother-right down to the smile. Right now though, all he saw in her features was pain and sadness. He was watching her so intently that her almost didn't hear her soft voice ask, "Do you remember it?".

Artie swallowed hard. They never talked about _it_. "The accident?" he asked just to be certain. Mrs. Abrams let out the long breath she'd been holding and nodded slowly. Artie wasn't sure how answer. He knew he couldn't tell her the truth-that he remembered almost every second of that day-so he blurted the first that came to his mind. "Bits and pieces." His mother simply nodded again.

Soon, the silence that filled the room brought back memories that were forcing both of them to relive the events of that fateful day.


	2. Chapter 2

_**An authors note-I would like to start out by thanking everyone who has read chapter one and especially to those who were kind enough to leave a review/Fav/Alert. This chapter is much longer than the last and will jump between present day dialogue and flashbacks/memories(which will all be in italics). As another homage to Kevin, I've decided to use a bit of personal information he divulged in an interview on the Tyra Banks show this past fall, and tweak it a bit to fit into this storyline.**_

**_Disclaimer-Glee is the property of FOX, the creators and the writers. _**

**_Training-wheels_**

_Friday July 13, 2001 3:07pm_

_From the minute he woke up this morning, eight year-old Artie Abrams was determined to make today the day. __He'd gotten the shiny new bike for his birthday nearly two whole months ago, and had yet to learn how to ride it on his own. Which really hadn't been that big of a deal-that was, until nine days ago. __It was the Fourth of July and Artie was overjoyed that his Cub Scout pack was going to be marching in Lima's annual parade that day. Even more excited that he was finally going to be able to show off his brand new bike. But when the Abrams family arrived to drop Artie off, the boy immediately noticed that not one of his other pack members still had training wheels on their bikes. Heck, hardly any of the first grade tiger cubs had training wheels anymore. Artie decided it would be better if he didn't make a spectacle of himself so he asked his Dad to bring the bike back to their minivan __and opted to help carry the sign instead. _

_The rest of the week and weekend was filled with family get-togethers, neighborhood barbeque's and local festivals that left no time for bike riding. Come Monday though, Artie was ready. He started off with just removing the right training wheel-that's what his Dad had told him to do when he haded Artie the small ratchet set before leaving for work that morning. _

_By Tuesday, Artie was eager for the other wheel to come off, even though he'd spent the last two afternoons riding with his left foot on the pedal and his right dragging on the pavement, trying to keep his balance. _

_On Wednesday, Artie somehow suckered his mother into spending her morning running up and down the sidewalk beside him just as his father had done the previous evening. Her hand holding the back of the seat was his only stability as he steered wildly onto the front lawn; into trees, bushes and the street, time and time again. After a few hours, two skinned knees and an elbow later- with Artie not the only victim. She was finally able to call it quits, citing lunch and their full afternoon of previously scheduled summer activities as her reason why._

_Thursday, it stormed for the entire day but that wasn't enough to stop Artie. He spent most of it holed up on the empty side of the garage practicing his balance, take off and steering. It took him well into the evening, but by then he was almost able to get both feet onto the pedals without running into the walls._

_It continued to rain well into Friday, but now the sun was out and the ground was finally dry enough to ride a bike on. Artie strapped on his bike helmet. He figured he'd add the elbow and knee pads that came with his roller blades for extra protection because there was nothing worse than skinning an already skinned knee. Smiling, he then carefully walked his bike down the driveway and onto the sidewalk, where he was preparing to mount it._

_"Artie, I need you to bring your bike back in," his mother called from the garage._

_"But Mom, I was just about to ride it," he groaned in protest._

_Mrs. Abrams let out a frustrated sigh as she opened the door of her van to grab something, then headed down the driveway. "C'mon Artie."_

_"But I wanna practice."_

_"I know Sweetie, but..." she looked down at her watch and back up again, "...it's almost quarter after now and I have to get half-way across town by three-thirty to pick up Andy from Harry's birthday party."_

_"Can't I just stay here?," Artie pleaded. "Dad's home."_

_"Yes but he's busy inside with the plumber trying to figure out how their going to get the baseball Andy flushed down the toilet out of the pipes without having to rip up my bathroom floor." It all came out in one aggravated breath. "Now please," she added in a softer, motherly tone as she moved to unsnap the clasp of his helmet._

_Artie flinched away from her. "I don't know why I just can't stay here and ride my bike while you go pick up Andy," he mumbled all the way back to the garage._

_Mrs. Abrams couldn't help feeling a small pang of guilt. She knew how important this was to him, but still had to insist, "Because I need you to come with me." Artie glanced over his shoulder __longingly at his bike. His mother wished there was more time to work things out, but she really had to pick up Andy. "Artie, I promise as soon as we get home, you can ride your bike; for the rest of the afternoon if you'd like. Now please, let's just go." _

_"We have to take Dad's car because the plumbers truck is blocking mine" she instructed, using the keypad to unlock the doors to her husbands compact sedan. Artie reluctantly opened the back passenger side door and pushed Andy's booster seat over so he could sit. "Don't forget to buckle." He promptly did what he was told then proceeded to fold his arms over his chest and turn his head to gaze out the window._

_They were still about ten minutes from their destination and already running five minutes late when Mrs. Abrams took the time to glance at Artie through the rear-view mirror while sitting at an intersection notorious for it's long red lights. He was still in that same position, arms over chest. The only difference was now his head was turned toward the opposite window._

_It was obvious he was not happy, and if the the pout on his face wasn't enough, the fact that he hadn't uttered a single word since getting into the car was a dead give-away. Usually their excursions were full of conversation and laughter and singing-a mother/son bonding time. Mrs. Abrams heart felt heavy, if she wasn't so preoccupied with plumbing issues and parental tardiness, maybe..._

_Her thoughts were cut short by the changing of the traffic light. They were third in line. She wanted to engage Artie somehow so she turned the volume of the radio down and opened her mouth to say something, but her words were instantly replaced with the sound of crunching metal and screeching tires._

"You were so mad at me."

Artie shook his head clear. He wasn't sure he'd heard correctly, the sound of glass shattering still ringing fresh in his ears. "No I wasn't," his voice was barely a whisper.

She flashed him a skeptical look, clearly remembering the scowl he was wearing right before-"Yes you were."

Artie was hit with a pang of guilt. He remembered giving his mom the cold shoulder that day it the car. And he knew that nothing he said now would change the fact that she was the one who was mad at herself. "No Mom, really. I wasn't mad at you," he insisted, sighing heavily, "I was just upset. All I could think about was how I was going to be the only third grader on the planet who couldn't ride a two-wheeler."

Mrs. Abrams watched as Artie's left hand, which was resting on the push rim of his chair, unconsciously touch the wheel. She had to look away. It took her forever it seemed to compose herself enough so she was able to swallow the lump in her throat. Even then, she was only able to utter three small words, "I'm so sorry."

"Mom don't. Please," Artie groaned his complaint. He knew how deeply her guilt ran, and that hurt him just as much as it did her.

Mrs. Abrams thoughts drifted back to that day and all the what if's that came along with it-what if she would have left a few minutes earlier like she was supposed to instead of spending so much time arguing with Artie, what if she hadn't got caught by that red light on Campbell boulevard, what if she simply hadn't taken him with her? These were the same questions that had been plaguing her for the past eight years, three months and two days.

"I should have never made you come with me."

Artie looked at his mother with sympathetic eyes. "You couldn't have known Mom?" he countered, reaching his hand out to grasp hers. "I mean it's not like you woke up that morning hoping we'd get into a really bad accident. Or that you knew there'd be some old drunk guy driving through the intersection of Main street and Pine avenue at the exact same time we were."

"I know, but that the ironic thing...," Mrs. Abrams sniffled, forcing a tight smile and she squeezed his hand. "I made you come with me because I was afraid you'd get hurt." Her confession made his eyes widened with curiosity, forcing her to continue. "I was afraid that if I left you home without an adult watching, that something bad would happen to you."

After carefully regarding his mothers words, Artie leaned forward slightly and placed his free hand on the table, covering hers. "Maybe it would have," he offered consolingly. Mrs. Abrams looked up, it was her turn to be curious. "Maybe if you left me at home I would've fallen off my bike and cracked my head open or broken my neck and died." He briefly glanced down at his lap before reengaging his mothers gaze. "I'm pretty sure this is the lesser of those two evils."

Mrs. Abrams let herself smile despite of how she was truly feeling. Artie never failed to amaze her. She slid her hand out from under his and lovingly cupped one cheek with it before placing a kiss on the other. She then rose from her seat to return her pie to the oven that had been pre-heating for some time now.

They'd finally talked about the about the accident, and not just like mother to son; in a very adult manner-victim to victim. Artie always figured that he would feel better after they had talked about it. But revisiting that day only seemed to produce more questions, feelings and emotions, he wasn't quite sure how to deal with. He just wanted to be done with it.

Artie gave his chair a quick half turn. "Mom?" he called out just as she was closing the oven door. Mrs. Abrams straightened and the two held each others gaze for a few seconds. The large scar on her forehead his mother tried to keep hidden by her long bangs caught Artie's attention and before he could stop himself he was asking, "What do you remember about-after?"

Mrs. Abrams was momentarily taken aback. "Um, nothing really...just waking up days later," she paused to take in a breath. "Why?"

Lost in his own thoughts, Artie didn't answer.

* * *

**_Authors note x 2-I know I previously stated that this was only supposed to be a two-shot, and that is how I'd originally planned it. But as I'm typing it up I'm finding that 1)I'm constantly editing and adding to what I had written. And 2)I like the feel of shorter more concise chapters with cliffhanger-ish endings that lead us nicely into the next chapter. _**

**_I would also like to express my deep gratitude for the kind reviews I was lucky enough to recieve. I'm very happy to see that this story is being enjoyed._**


	3. Chapter 3

_**An authors note---Again, thanks to all those who are reading this story. The reviews/favs and alerts have been a wonderful inspiration. For those of you who are wondering what secret Kevin revealed to the world on the Tyra show, it was that he was twelve before he ever learned how to ride a bike---and not very well I believe. He also added that to this day, he still avoids bicycles. He is just so freakin' cute:) A little warning about this chapter, it's a bit on the graphic side---heavy on the rescue angst.**_

**_Disclaimer---Glee is the property of FOX, the creators and the writers. _**

**_Training-wheels_**

_Friday July 13, 2001 3:39pm_

_The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance. That was the first thing Artie noticed, once his ears had stopped ringing. Second was the smell. It reminded him of the mechanic shop his father took the family vehicles to, a mixture of motor oil, gasoline and tire rubber---only not in a good way. Finally there was the pain. During the impact, Artie's slim body had somehow shifted out from behind the protective shield of the should strap. He was violently thrown to the left and against Andy's booster seat, while still buckled within the lap part of the belt._

_There was something else discerning about the whole thing. While the world outside had erupted into a noisy chaos, it was eerily silent within the damaged car. "Mom?" There was no answer. He tried to move next but he was stuck. It felt like his body had been pinned down by something heavy. Maybe the seat belt was jammed. _

_"Mom?", he called out again. This time was a little louder, but that only succeeded in scratching Artie's already dry throat. He shifted his eyes upward and was able to make out the outline of his mothers shoulder. She was definitely there, but why wasn't she answering him? Panic started to set in. Artie knew he had to do something. He tried sliding his free hand under his body to unhook his seat belt, but the movement sent a searing pain down his left arm. _

_He was able to bite back a scream but couldn't stop the small sob from escaping his lips."__Mommy?" Great, now he sounded like a scared little baby. Mommy? Even his five and a half year-old brother didn't call her Mommy anymore. But he was scared and that was his Mommy and she wasn't answering him._

_"We've got an approximately 25-35 year old female driver in this one. Unconscious, deep head lac---holdup, we got a kid back here."_

_Before Artie could figure out what was going on, a warm smiling face appeared before him. She was a pretty blond, petite or at least small enough to squeeze herself into the backseat floor of the car. He must have looked terrified because as soon as she slid in, she whispered in a soothing voice "Hey there, you're gonna be okay." Artie blinked a few times and let out a shaky breath. "What's your name Sweetie?"_

_"Arthur John Abrams the third."_

_The EMT let out a light chuckle. "Wow, that's a pretty big name for such a little guy."_

_Artie frowned as he replied, "I'm not little---just short for my age."_

_This time she laughed. "And how old is that?", she asked, keeping him engaged and distracted while she flashed her penlight into his eyes._

_"Eight years and two months," he replied steadily._

_"You're right, that isn't little---you're practically a young man," The EMT quipped playfully as she pulled the stethoscope from around her neck. "Okay Arthur---"_

_"Actually," he interrupted politely, "my Grandpa's Arthur. And my Dad is Art. You can call me Artie."_

_She smiled at him and nodded. "Okay Artie. I'm Heather and over there is my partner Kevin," she motioned past her shoulder to the big muscular guy behind her. "He's helping---"_

_"Is she okay---my Mom?" he asked worriedly._

_Heather looked back over her shoulder at her partner who flashed her a series of hand signals, then got right back to tending to Mrs. Abrams. She turned back to Artie and offered him a small smile. "She's doing okay. Her heart is strong and her breathing sounds good. It looks like she might have hit her head on the door or the window. She has a pretty bad cut on her forehead above her left eye and she's not awake right now, but Kevin is taking really good care of her. In fact, he's just about to get her out and get her ready to go to the hospital." Heather noticed Artie's eyes widen fearfully. "Don't worry, you'll be right behind her," she assured him. "But first we have to find out if you're hurt anywhere."_

_"My arm," he blurted._

_"The arm you're laying on?" Heather questioned, carefully sliding her hand under him. Artie immediately flinched when she her fingertips made contact with his forearm, the only part of the arm she could reach from the awkward way he was slumped over onto it. "Yeah, that looks like it might be broken." _

_Artie swallowed hard. All he could think about was how his mother would never let him ride a bike with a broken arm. And by the time he'd get his cast off, the summer would probably be over. How was he gonna learn to ride now?_

_While Artie was lost in his own thoughts, Heather took the time to check over the rest of him. Something quickly caught her attention. "Artie, does you leg hurt too?" she asked cautiously, eyes cast on the large chunk of window glass that was embedded in the side of his right thigh, just below where the hem of his shorts ended. _

_"No."_

_Immediately, her years of training kicked in. "__Okay Artie, what about your neck or back?" _

_"No, just my arm."_

_"Any pain in your tummy or hips?" Heather pressed, noting both the painful looking bruise that was forming on his lower abdomen where the seat belt ran across and the awkward way left hip was wedged atop the buckle. She could tell by the look on his face what the answer was. _

_Artie noticed Heather's expression turn from casual to concerned, and that was making him nervous. "Ca-can I get up now?" he asked, trying to shift a little. "I think the seat belt is stuck---"_

_"No Artie please don't try to move," she insisted, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I need you to stay really still for me. Okay?" Artie started to nod, but Heather moved her hand to his cheek. "Keep your head still too." Her voice sounded a little rushed and shaky, but she managed a warm smile before calling out the open door for more supplies. "I need full pediatric spinal precaution over here."_

_Heather resumed her position by Artie's side, only this time she clasped a hand on either side of his face to keep his head immobile. "My shoulders are starting to hurt a little."_

_"I know Sweetie, that's from---." Her words were cut off and replaced with a flurry of activity around them. _

_The small slender, gloved hands that had been on his face were replaced with another set, this pair much larger and originating from somewhere above him. Remembering what Heather said about not moving his head, Artie lifted his eyes upwards. "I thought he was helping my Mom." The question was directed to the female EMT who was, at the moment, carefully maneuvering a cervical collar around Artie's small neck._

_"I was, and she did great," the male voice replied, smiling down at the boy. "They took her in another ambulance. So you my friend, will be riding with us." Kevin's voice sounded upbeat and calm which made Artie relax some. He always wondered what it would be like to ride in an ambulance. Too bad he had to find out this way._

_"Okay Artie, I have to put in an IV now," Heather said calmly. "You're going to feel a little stick in the top of your hand." _

_He looked up and locked eyes with Kevin who was smiling encouragingly at him. "All done Buddy", he stated, before Artie even had a chance to flinch._

_Artie's gaze returned to Heather just in time to see her preparing a syringe. "A shot too?" he asked fearfully._

_Heather smiled at the boy. Good thing he missed her drawing his blood. "Just a little medicine to help with the pain," she assured him. "And I can put it right into your IV, so you wont even feel it."_

_Artie let out a huge sigh of relief, which may have been a little premature. "What's that for?" he asked noting another bag of clear liquid in her hand._

_"This is a special type of medicine called a steroid and it's going to help bring down any inflammation or swelling in your body that might be bad for you," Heather explained, only giving as much detail as she thought the injured eight year-old could understand._

_"Can't you just put it in the other one, like you did with the shot?" he pleaded. _

_Heather smiled sympathetically. "I wish I could Sweetie, but this one is really powerful and important, so it has to go into your arm right here," she stated, tapping the inside of his elbow. "If we put this medicine into the IV, it would get all watered down and wouldn't work as well." Heather paused and waited for Artie's eyes to tell her he was ready. A wave of emotion tightened in her chest as she plunged the second needle into his small arm. "You're being so brave Artie---we're almost done. And then we'll be able to get you out of here."_

_The second IV was taped into place and a large board was slid between his back and the seat of the car. Before they were even finished securing him to the board, the morphine started to kick in. Artie was vaguely aware of being shifted from his side to his back. He could hear Heather talking to him, knew she was wrapping his suspected broken arm, but it was hard to make out what she was saying. Her and Kevin gently eased him out of the back seat. He fought to keep his eyes open, but the bright sunlight was making it difficult. Inside the ambulance, it was becoming even more harder to stay awake. Artie was determined though---he wanted to hear those sirens. _

"You must have been so scared."

Artie's head snapped up and he found himself unconsciously running his hand over the small bump of healed bone on his left arm. He lifted his eyes to see that his mother was again seated before him. "Ah, right when it first happened, maybe. But the EMT's that took care of me were really great." He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "So good, I didn't even freak out about the needles."

Mrs. Abrams flashed a teary smile at this. Before the accident, Artie was terrified of needles. But as a result of it, he quickly became accustomed to being poked and prodded. He was such a brave boy. She only wished he didn't have to go through all that, to prove what she's always known.

"You must have been pretty scared too."

Artie's statement surprised Mrs. Abrams. She'd never conveyed any of her emotions to him, for fear it would upset him. And it worked fine when he was younger, but now she knew she couldn't hide anything from him. "Terrified was more like it," she answered softly, wiping the tears from her cheeks---


	4. Chapter 4

_**An authors note---Yay, you guys are so amazing. Thank you so much for all of the reviews and alerts. And it's because of those wonderful reviews that I feel the need to apologize in advance for this chapter. If you think that last one was heavy on the emotional angst, wait 'til you read this one. On a lighter note---a Rachel Berry gold star for Artemis Rayne, who picked up on me using the actors real names for the names of the minor characters in this story. See if you can find the ones previously used, and those that come up in the coming chapters. And two tributes to Kevin in this one.**_

**_Disclaimer---Glee is the property of FOX, the creators and the writers. _**

**_Training-wheels_**

_Monday July 16, 2001 8:17 am_

_The sun was shining brightly through the blinds of room 209. Alicia Abrams slowly lifted her heavy eyelids and blinked rapidly to clear her vision. "Art?" she called out, her voice still raspy, once she was finally able to make out the figure seated to her right._

_"Hey there sleeping beauty," he greeted lovingly as he rose to close the distance from his chair to her bed, and slowly leaned over to place a kiss on her cheek. _

_She wearily lifted her head to meet him halfway, but groaned when the movement became to much. Her hand instinctively flew to her head, to find an even more sensitive spot just under the bandage, as her eyes darted around the unfamiliar room. "Wha-what---."_

_"Don't you remember?"_

_It all came flooding back in an instant. "Accident. Oh God. Artie", she cried, fighting to sit up. "And Andy. Where are they? Please Art, tell me they're okay."_

_Mr. Abrams looked sympathetically at his wife as he lowered himself to the bed and took her hand in his. "Andy's fine, he with your parents."_

_The strained tone of his exhausted voice was worrisome, but it was the empty pause that followed that terrified her. "No," she pleaded desperately._

_Mr. Abrams tried to meet his wife's imploring gaze, but it was just too painful. Almost as painful as what he had yet to tell her. He focused on their clasped hands and gave a squeeze. "Artie's three floors up. Peds ICU."_

_"Oh my God." It was a mixture of utter disbelief and prayer of relief. He was still alive. Nothing else really mattered, except she found herself asking of her sons condition anyway. "How bad?"_

_"Serious but stable," he replied vaguely, repeating only what the staff had been telling him. But that's not what she asked and he knew it. "He um---he's pretty banged up Alicia." __That much was obvious. They don't usually stick a perfectly healthy eight year-old in the pediatric intensive care unit for good measure. "He has __some cuts like you do from the flying glass. There's a pretty deep one on his right leg that they stitched up and are keeping an eye on. His left arm is broken and he has a large abrasion, contusion---I'm not sure what they called it---on his lower abdomen, right where the seat belt went across. At first they were worried that he might have lacerated his bladder, but they said it was just badly bruised." _

_Alicia searched her husbands face for the rest. She knew there was more and it had to be much worse than this."Please, just tell me"._

_Heavily, Art stood up and began pacing the small space between the wall and the bed. He covered his face with his hands, then raked them through his hair as he let out a sigh. "The other car was going around fifty when it happened. The guy must've lost control right before because when he hit, it was almost at an angle." Alicia closed her eyes, remembering only that they were almost through the intersection before her world went black. "The force somehow threw Artie forward and to the left at the same time. The um---the impact fractured three vertebrae in his lower back."_

_Alicia gasped for breath, her body began trembling. "But he's okay now," she implored, "They were able to fix it, right?"_

_Art was barely holding it together, he knew he should have let the doctors tell her. He moved back over to her bed and cleared the emotion from his throat before continuing. "The surgeon was able to stabilize his spine with pins and screws, but there was other damage---a lot of it."_

_"No," Alicia cried out as Art moved in to embrace her. "No Art. Don't you dare tell me---." She tried to fight it, but as words failed her, she finally succumbed to the sobs that left her quaking in her husbands arms._

_"The doctor said it will be weeks before the swelling goes down enough to---then they'll---," he paused, unable to get the right words out, "---it just doesn't look good Leesh."_

_"No, this isn't happening. It can't be," __Alicia chanted in denial. _"Please Art, please tell me this isn't happening. Not to our little boy. Not to my Artie." But he couldn't. As much as he wanted it all to be a bad dream, he just couldn't make this go away. So instead, Art pressed Alicia _a little tighter to his chest, and let his own tears fall freely from his eyes. _

_It may have felt like an eternity, but it was mere seconds before Alicia pushed away in a slightly panicked state. "Wait, why are you here? Why aren't you with him?"_

_Art gently grabbed his wife by the shoulders to calm her. "Because I wanted to be with you," he answered in regard to her first question. "And Artie's fine. They still have him sedated---"_

_"Still?" she asked incredulously. "How long---?"_

_"You've both been out for two and a half days", he replied as gently as he could, "It's Monday Leesh." _

_This little piece of news brought on fresh tears, as did another realization."He doesn't know yet". It came out as both a statement and a question and the look on her husbands face was more than confirmation for Alicia._

_"They're planning on bringing him out of it later tonight or early tomorrow. But it'll probably be days before he aware enough to realize---"._

_"I have to go", Alicia shrieked over her husbands words as she attempted to remove the IV tubing from her hand. "I have__ to be with him."_

_"Alicia calm down," Art implored, letting on hand fall from his grasp and onto the bed rail._

_"No, I have to go to Artie."_

_"Mrs. Abrams, please relax." The voice came from a friendly looking nurse, who seemed to magically appear in the doorway._

_"I need to see my son." _

_The nurse stepped into the room. "Mrs. Abrams, you've suffered a very serious grade three concussion," she explained to her distraught patient as she bustled around checking the monitors. "You need to keep yourself as calm and rested as you can."_

_"But you don't understand," she was was crying again, even harder than before, "I need to be with him. He's---he needs me."_

_The nurse's eyes locked with Mr. Abrams and she flashed him a sympathetic smile. She knew all about the accident and their son. Poor kid. "I'll page the doctor to come check you out," she compromised. "But only if you promise to try to relax."_

_Alicia nodded in agreement and an initial wave of relief settled over her. But it was short-lived when the nurse returned a while later, after the doctor had given his okay for release, with a hospital issue wheelchair for transport. The air was completely knocked from her lungs. "It's hospital policy", the nurse noted softly. Alicia steeled herself, she needed to stay calm. She couldn't think about the future and wheelchairs and Artie right now---not when there was another doctor three floors up that was about to talk to her about all the broken things that needed to be fixed before they could even get to that stage._

_The Peds floor was completely different from the drab halls she had just left. There were vibrant paint colors, fun artwork and playful music piped though the sound system. Even the intensive care unit, where Artie was, was warm and welcoming. A curious head bobbed up as the group passed the front desk. She smiled when the saw the father of her newest patient. "You must be Mrs. Abrams," she greeted kindly to the seated woman next to him. "I'm Dianna, Artie's nurse."_

_Artie---Art must have told her their son didn't like being called anything else. Her mind quickly took her thirty years into the future, to an established professional handing out business cards with the first name of "Artie" printed on them. But then a wheelchair flashed before her eyes, and suddenly it didn't seem so amusing anymore. Alicia nodded her head in response to the nurse and held her breath as she was brought closer to his room._

_The room was bigger than the one she'd been in, probably to accommodate all the equipment necessary. There were some machines surrounding Artie, but not nearly as many as his mother had anticipated. The bed must have been on the smaller size too, because suddenly Artie looked so big. Or maybe it was just because it had been days since she'd seen him last. "He looks fine," Alicia commented softly, as she looked from her sleeping son to the nurse._

_"He is fine," she returned casually._

_Alicia gave a perplexed look. "But---."_

_"Three days post op and his oxygen levels are perfect---he already breathing room air. Input and output are great, and all his readings are normal. He's doing great all things considered," Dianna maintained steadily. She looked between the overwhelmed set of parents. "Dr. Murphy okay-ed the request to start weaning Artie from sedation. Are you ready?"_

_They both nodded apprehensively and watched as the nurse re-calibrated Artie's medication levels. "How long will it be?" Art asked quietly, as if he expected anything louder than a whisper to instantly wake his son._

_"Shouldn't be more than a few hours," Dianna assured them. "It won't last very long though, maybe just a minute or two. And he probably won't be very lucid at first, but that will get better with time." __Dianna could see the trepidation in the young woman's eyes as she carefully watched her son. "Touch him. Talk to him. He should be aware of your presence soon. It'll help too."_

_Alicia tentatively reached out her hand. She couldn't remember ever being afraid to touch her own child. Dianna waited for Alicia's hand to cover her sons before whispering to Art. "If you need anything, just press the call button."_

_"Hey baby boy," Alicia hummed, rubbing her thumb across his tiny knuckles. Her breath hitched as she leaned forward to press a kiss to the top of his hand. Any reserve she may have had left at that moment broke, and she dropped her head to the bed and sobbed, "I'm sorry Artie---I'm so so sorry", over and over again._

_Art wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, Alicia with her head buried at Artie's side, and him perched on the edge of bed, his arm around her. He was lost deep in his own thoughts and grief when a twitch to his right caught his attention. His hazel eyes lifted slowly to be met with bright blue. "Hey there Pal."_

_"Hi Dad." The __voice was sluggish and slurred but it was the sweetest most melodic sound they had ever heard. _

_"Artie?" Alicia called out, lifting her head just in time to see Artie's lips turn up slightly. _

_"Mom, you're okay," he sighed, relief evident in his voice._

_It never occurred to Alicia that Artie may have been just as worried about her as she was about him. But maybe it should have. This made her eyes water anew. "I'm fine Sweetheart---and so are you," a quick glance up at her husband gave her the encouragement to go on. "You're gonna be just fine Artie---no matter what."_

_He nodded slowly. "I broke my arm."_

_Mr. Abrams let out a much needed chuckle. "You sure did Pal." _

_Even with fuzzy vision and tired eyes, Artie was able to follow his fathers gaze. "Cool---it's blue." At least it looked blue. He wanted to ask for his glasses and tried to move his casted arm, but found that took far too much effort or strength than he currently had. _

_They could see he was fading fast. "How are you feeling Artie?" Mr. Abrams asked curiously. "Are you in any pain?"_

_The little boy shook his head as best he could. "No. Everything feels real heavy though---it's kinda hard to move."_

_"That's partly from the medicine Son," Art stated soothingly._

_Alicia looked up at her husband, her eyes begging him not to go any further. Artie would be awake and aware soon enough, she just wanted him to have a little more peace before his world came crashing down on him. "Just rest Baby. You'll feel a little better next time you wake up. And we'll both be here when you do."_

_There was no response this time and Alicia figured Artie had already fallen back to sleep---until five tiny finger curled slightly around hers and he muttered, "Mommy, sing me a song."_

"Let it Be," Artie choked out, then bit down hard on the side of his cheek. God he hated feeling like he was about to cry. He wouldn't allow himself---especially in front of his mother.

"You remember?" she asked, drying her own eyes with yet another paper napkin from the table.

He nodded, hoping he could keep it together long enough to verbalize an answer. "Of course I do. It's my favorite song." His voice cracked, but he covered it up with a soft chuckle. "And I made you sing it to me every night for an entire year."

Alicia allowed herself a small smile. "I never minded." She lifted her hand to his face and brushed his bangs to the side with her fingers, just as she did all those nights when he was little. Artie watched her eyes begin to fill again. He knew he didn't have it in him to go through another round of that. Luckily though, he was saved by the bell---or oven timer as the case may be. "Pie?," she asked, gently letting her fingers caress his cheek before standing.

Artie nodded again and waited until she moved from the table, to swipe his fingers across his eyes. He cleared his throat, then pivoted and called out, I'll get the ice cream."

When she returned to the table, Alicia couldn't help but laugh. "Ice cream, caramel sauce, whipped cream, and cherries?".

He looked up and smirked innocently. "Yeah. It's turning out to be_ that_ kinda night."

"You forgot the sprinkles", she teased playfully as she handed him his slice.

Artie shrugged indifferently as he eagerly dug into his treat. "Andy must've used 'em last time---couldn't reach."

And with that, all levity and ease in the room was thrown out the window. Alicia felt her chest tighten painfully. "If you want them, I can get---."

"No Mom. Sit," he urged, reaching out to grab her hand. "It's fine."

"No it isn't," Alicia finally said after a few strained minutes. A bit startled and completely confused, Artie looked up from his half-eaten slice of pie. "Everything you've had to and will always have to go through---it isn't fine, or fair."

"Maybe not always fair, but it was always okay," Artie replied quietly as he speared a chunk of apple with his fork and popped it into his mouth. It was Alicia's turn to look startled and confused. "You've been there with me through everything, Mom. Every step of the way. You held my hand when I was scared, made me laugh when I wanted to cry, pushed me to try when I wanted to quit." He shrugged a little self-consciously, but held her gaze. "You always made everything okay for me, and I don't think I ever thanked you for that."

Alicia shook her head dismissively, not bothering to wipe the trail of tears from her cheeks this time. "Oh Sweetheart, that's something you never have to thank me for doing."

"But I want to," Artie stated deliberately. Shifting a bit uncomfortably, he picked up his fork and returned his focus back to dessert. Alicia did the same and was surprised when moments later, he added, "Ya know Mom, things really haven't been all that bad for me---since. In fact, most of it's been great." She looked up to see him shrug timidly, then break into a wide grin. "I mean, the best thing that ever happened to this family---happened _because_ of the accident."

There were no tears from her this time, just a genuine heart-felt smile.

It didn't take a mathematician to figure out that Abbigayle Hope Abrams was born exactly nine months and fifteen days from the date of the accident. And it was also no secret that Artie loved that little girl more than life itself. Alicia's expression turned wistful. "You know, the day we got your final prognosis was the day I found out I was pregnant."

He laughed as he dug into his second helping of apple pie ala Artie. "How could I forget?"

**_ANx2---So this was my longest one yet. It really didn't start out this long, but morphed a bit after I decided to chop the story into individual chapters. I'd like to take this opportunity to address a great point that one of my wonderful reviewers made as to why Artie hadn't realized what was wrong with him right after the accident. I did that because, well Artie was only eight and eight year-olds aren't generally that in tune with their bodies yet. Plus, he was laying on his left side, slumped over Andy's booster seat, so he wouldn't have been able to even see his legs or the laceration---a detachment theory. I also figured at that point, he'd be more focused on the pain he could feel from his broken arm and concerned that his mother wasn't answering him. Hope that clarifies._**


	5. Chapter 5

_**An authors note-All my reviewers get a gold star this time! Char-Chan for being the first to review. Miss Maggie for being the first to get the tributes. Artemis Rayne for leaving me that beautiful review, I'm truly honored. And ARPfics gets two because 1. I feel bad that I made you cry and 2. you were watching Wheels which is my favorite episode. Last chapter here guys. Thanks to you all for making this experience so enjoyable. **_

**_Disclaimer-Glee is the property of FOX, the creators and the writers. _**

**_Training-wheels_**

_Friday August 10, 2001 12:57 pm_

_It had been a month, exactly four week from the day the Abrams family's world had been completely turned upside down. Alicia and Art sat in the familiar room their son had called home for the past nineteen days since stepping down from the ICU, waiting anxiously for his return. Artie had been taken down to radiology nearly two hours ago, for what the nurse had claimed to be "a routine series of tests"._

_Art watched Alicia continuously look down at her watch then back up at the wall clock as if one, or both of them had suddenly stopped working. "Everything alright?" he asked casually, looking up from the magazine he was reading._

_"No, everything is not alright Art," she snapped as she sprang from her seat. "Dr. Murphy's nurse said he wanted to meet with us today around noon, after Artie's tests were done. But now your lunch hour is almost over, the doctor hasn't even seen us yet and our son is nowhere to be found."_

_It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for Alicia to start to panic a little when she was forced to be separated from Artie for more than a few minutes. In fact, she's hardly left the boys side at all. In the past four weeks, Alicia had only left the hospital premises a total of five times-and only once for a span longer than the hour it usually took her to shower and repack her duffel bag. The rest of the time she was living out of Artie's hospital room, sleeping on the reclining chair next to his bed, using the attached bathroom as her own, eating her meals off the same menu as him. They kept each other in constant company, his job was to focus on resting and healing, while hers was to learn from the nurses how to care for her currently immobile son. Andy was brought up at least once a day by either Art, one of the grandparents, or whoever was watching him at that particular time. His visits never tended to last very long._

_Alicia was pacing now and that was never a good sign. Art moved to be next to her and pulled her into an embrace. "Calm down Leesh. I'll call work and let them know what's going on. They'll understand. They know Artie comes first." He felt her nod against his chest but didn't bother to move otherwise. They held onto one another for a minute or so before Art broke away and moved to the bedside table where the phone was located. "Leesha-look," he called out, motioning over his left shoulder, a smile gracing his lips._

_And before Alicia could turn around completely, Artie and his bed were being wheeled back through the doorway. "Hey Sweetie. How were your tests?" she asked, rushing to the side of his bed just as the orderly had finished locking it into place._

_"Long and boring," he replied with an exaggerated yawn. Artie was just about to ask for his glasses, when his father stepped up and handed them to him. He smiled appreciatively, but it quickly turned to a frown when he placed them on his face and noticed how late it was. "Aww, did I miss lunch?"_

_Art chuckled as he ruffled his sons hair. "Don't worry Pal..."_

_Just then, a nurse stuck her head into the room and summoned. "Mr. and Mrs. Abrams? Dr. Murphy would like to speak with you now."_

_Alicia shot Art an apprehensive glance. He let out a shaky breath before turning his attention back to his son. "This should only take a few minutes and then we'll get you something to eat. Okay?" Artie just nodded silently and picked up the television remote._

_The Abrams were both surprised to see Dr. Murphy standing by the nurses desk when they stepped out from Artie's room. "Ah Art, Alicia," he greeted pleasantly once he noticed them. He quickly finished what he was writing, then scooped up the files and folders next to him before leading them into a private conference room just down the hall. "I have to say, I'm very pleased with the progress Artie's making."_

_'What progress?' Alicia thought morosely. _

_"It never fails to amaze me at how quickly children seem to bounce back after a major trauma."_

_'Bounce? Not exactly' she mused angrily. 'All Artie's been able to do for the past month is lay in a bed and struggle with a casted left arm and an unresponsive lower half.'_

_"We didn't think you'd have the results so quickly." It was Art's voice, and it startled Alicia out of her previous introspection. She looked up from the hands she was wringing in her lap to find the doctor spreading out his folders and opening up the thick, paper filled manila file she suspected to be Artie's medical records._

_"I was able to consult with the radiologist and specialist as the scans were taking place," he explained, flipping the switch to light the frames on the wall behind him. "But before we get to those, I would like to start with the x-rays of Artie's arm. Please sit."_

_Alicia could feel the dread building up in her and grabbed Art's hand, holding on for dear life._

_"As you can see the bones are healing nicely, almost completely and it's only been four weeks. We are, however, going to keep it casted for the recommended full six weeks. This may hinder Artie's rehabilitation, but only very slightly. We want to make sure the arm will be strong enough to handle the kind of pressure Artie's weight will be exacting on it."_

_With that, Dr. Murphy changed the subject focus, as well as the film slides. There were three this time, all side by side. The first one was an x-ray of Artie's torso, that much was certain...a long line of strong healthy bone until you looked below the waistline and it became a shattered and splintered mess. Alicia felt sick to her stomach. "With these, we can see how well the bone fragments and grafts are fusing together." The doctor pointed between the next two scans. The second of the trio was recognizable as the one taken immediately after surgery while the third was obviously that of today's run of tests. It was quite remarkable to see such a transformation and the last scan may have looked near normal if it wasn't for the vast array of hardware holding Artie's spine together._

_"Now on the CT-," Dr. Murphy paused to pull those readings up onto the laptop computer in front of him. He turned the screen around to face the the overwhelmed parents, "-we can not only see the fracture repairs, but also the substantial reduction of swelling around them." He used the cap of his pen to circle the area in question, but Alicia wasn't paying attention anymore. "I'm confident to say that with everything I've seen today, we can head for that next level in Artie's recovery."_

_"Rehab?" Art inquired curiously."When?"_

_Dr. Murphy lifted his brow and grinned. "Well if all goes well this weekend, I think we can prep for transfer on Monday."_

_Pleased with what was about the first piece of good news since he was told that Artie made it through the surgery that first night, Art smiled. He could see the light at the end of the tunnel. Artie was finally getting out of the hospital, next was rehab, then home. They would soon be a whole family again._

_Blankly, Alicia looked up at the doctor. "You're talking about bone repair, reduction in swelling, rehabilitation and recovery-but what exactly does this mean for my son."_

_The desperation in her voice was evident. Art stepped behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders while Dr. Murphy __took a seat across from her. "It means that Artie will continue to heal. That he will learn the skills needed to guarantee the best quality of life. And that soon, he'll be a happy, active eight year-old again."_

_"But he'll never walk again." The words were on constant replay in her head but this was the first time she'd actually said them out loud. That made it real. It was real. And she began to cry. _

_Equally distraught but determined to stay strong for his wife, Art rested his hip against the arm of the chair she was sitting on and wrapped his arms around her. Dr. Murphy scooted closer and reached out comfortingly. "From early on, given the extent of damage, we were fairly certain that this would very well be the outcome. And while there is room for much improvement in certain areas, the chance that Artie will regain any motor function or sensation below the level of injury is less than one percent. I know you were praying for a miracle Alicia, but this is not likely to ever change. I'm sorry." He patted her hand and stood, offering Art a nod of compassion as well._

_"When will you tell him?", Alicia managed to sputter through her tears._

_"As soon as possible." The kind doctor met her gaze and gave a small sympathetic smile."But Artie is very bright, intuitive little boy-so I'm pretty sure he already knows."_

_And Alicia realized, that deep down inside, she'd always known too._

_Artie was mindlessly flipping through the channels when the trio walked into his room. The first thing he noticed was how awful his parents looked. The second thing was that Dr. Murphy was with them, and he didn't look much better. He watched as his mother took her permanent place next to his bed while his father stood between her and the foot of the bed where Dr. Murphy was. _

_Artie felt the tension in the room, just like every morning the doctors came in with their instruments, poking, prodding and percussing. Every morning he tried his hardest to feel something or move anything. But every morning was the always the same. And every morning his mother cried._

_This was no different, and with his mother sobbing at his side, Artie listened carefully to what his doctor had to say._

_"So, I'm not gonna get any better," he reasoned during a short pause. _

_"Sure you will," Dr. Murphy reassured. "You'll continue to get stronger and heal."_

_With all the wisdom and innocence of his eight years, Artie clarified,"I'm just not gonna be able to walk, run or ride my bike anymore, like the other doctors said." _

_Dr. Murphy shook his head. "No Son, I'm afraid not."_

_Artie__ sat contemplative, his lips twisting to the side as they always did when he was deep in thought. "But I'll get a really cool wheelchair, right?" he asked looking up at his father._

_Art couldn't help but smile at his little boy as he brushed away the tears that were falling from his own eyes, "The coolest we can find Pal."_

_Alicia, overcome with emotion, rushed from the room. Art was torn between going after his wife, and comforting his son. Luckily Dr. Murphy was there to make that decision a little easier. __Artie sighed heavily against his fathers chest, "I wish Mom wouldn't cry so much." He hoped that something would happen to make his mother happy. It didn't matter what, anything to see her smile again._

_"I know Pal", he soothed, gently holding his son...until a commotion outside caught his attention._

_Alicia's eyes slowly fluttered open. "Oh God," she groaned from the bed she was propped on, and was immediately transported back a month. The same feeling of panic__ returned. "Artie?"_

_"A little shook up that his Mom passed out right outside his hospital room."_

_"I fainted?"_

_Art gave a serious nod, but managed to crack a smile. "He's okay now, finally getting something to eat I think. Poor kid was starving."_

_"I'm sorry."_

_Art turned serious again. "You need to take better care of yourself Alicia."_

_Alicia knew her husbands statement came from the heart, out of deep love and concern. But the words only seemed to add to the guilt that was tearing her up inside. "I know," she whispered._

_"You're not eating right, not sleeping. How are you supposed to take care of Artie if you don't take care of yourself first?"_

_A sudden knock on the cubicle wall paused the conversation. "Mrs. Abrams?" _

_Alicia glanced up to acknowledge the nurse standing in the doorway. The woman stepped into the room wearing a smile the size of Texas. "Well, I hear congratulations are in order."_

_"Excuse me?" Alicia asked incredulously._

_"Congratulations," the young nurse repeated, confusion lacing her voice._

_Alicia scoffed angrily. "My eight year-old son just found out that he's never going to walk again, and you're congratulating me?"_

_"I'm so sorry about your son. I didn't know," she apologized. "I was just given the orders to release you. I thought the doctor explained..."_

_"Explained what?" Art inquired. "We haven't seen a doctor yet."_

_"Then you don't know." The pair stared at her blankly as they watched her smile return. "Well, aside from being mildly anemic and suffering from exhaustion, your blood work showed that you are pregnant."_

_Art gasped. "Pregnant?" _

_"That's impossible," Alicia retorted. "I can't be pregnant. I can't get pregnant. We tried after our second son was born. I suffered a miscarriage and was diagnosed with endometriosis. I'm on the pill..." Only she wasn't, she hadn't taken her birth control pills since the morning of the accident. But it was impossible, the doctors said it wouldn't happen, couldn't happen. Besides, her and Art hadn't been together in...well, just that one time almost two weeks ago. The first time they'd been home together since the accident, and ultimately found comfort in one another. _

_The nurse could sense their bewilderment. "I'll get the doctor for you."_

_Alicia turned to her husband. "I don't know if I can do this Art," she muttered apprehensively. "Not now. Not with Artie and everything."_

_"What are you saying?" he asked incredulously. "Of course you can do this Leesh. And you'll do it for Artie and Andy...," he rested his hand on her abdomen "...all of our babies."_

_Alicia looked down and placed her hand over Art's. "Our babies." Tears began to slip from her eyes again, but for the first time since that day one month ago, Alicia Abrams smiled._

"See Mom, we got our miracle," Artie's voice was sweet and sincere.

Alicia smiled at her son. It wasn't exactly a fair equivalence exchange, the use of Artie's legs for Abbey. But Alicia knew that if ever given the choice, Artie would choose his baby sister every time. "We sure did," she agreed, cupping his cheek with her hand.

Artie could see his mothers eyes start to mist again and that made him sad. She quickly turned away, busying herself with the task of clearing the sticky mess they made, off the kitchen table. "Mom?" She turned at the sound of his soft voice. "I'm sorry about the driving thing. I just wanted to get some information. I should have told you." His gaze heavy on the envelope still on the table.

But he didn't tell her. And the realization why hurt her more than anything. Her fears were what was holding Artie back from doing all the things that he wanted to do, not his disability. This was something she never wanted for her son. She wanted him to be that sixteen year-old boy who was just like everyone else his age. And right now, besides the wheelchair, the only real difference was that most of the kids his age were already driving or at least close to it. "What do you say we see if we can get that schedule of yours switched around a bit for next semester to fit in a drivers ed class?"

Artie beamed up at her with a hopeful glint in his eyes. He wasn't sure he'd heard her right. "Really?"

The look on his sweet face was priceless. Alicia nodded guardedly, but smiled as she stacked a pile of dishes to be washed.

Artie knew this couldn't be easy for her, seeing as his mother was overprotective and borderline obsessive when it came to the safety of her children, of all her children-but especially of him. But before Alicia had a chance to make it back from the sink, Artie was behind her tugging at her hand and pulling her into a hug. "Thanks Mom."

"You're welcome Sweetheart," she whispered back, lingering the embrace just a second longer.

"Okay. So I can probably get in to see Ms. Pillsbury first thing tomorrow morning to change my schedule. Then I need to got down to the DMV to take my permit test and to see when they offer adaptive driving lessons. Then I have to price out modified vehicles and get a part time job to pay for-."

He was rambling worse than a kid on Santa's lap at Christmas. "Baby steps Artie," Alicia warned playfully.

"Right," he beamed, heaving a giant sigh of relief. He eyed the envelope for a moment before picking it up and tossing it into his lap. "This is so awesome."

Suddenly, he was that eight year-old little boy again, standing in their garage, seeing his brand new bike for the very first time and uttering those very same words. Alicia's chest clenched violently. "Artie?" He slowed and spun to face her, an expectant look on his face. Her heart was heavy with years of pent up emotion. Sure she felt guilty about the accident. Was sorry that he'd never walk again. Felt pain for all he had to endure during all those months in the hospital. Worried herself sick with all the potential issues and complications that could arise from his condition. But there was one thing that plagued her most during this time. "I'm sorry you never got to learn how to ride your bike."

Her apology took him by surprise at first, but then his confused expression softened into a true Artie grin. "I'm not," he confessed in all honesty. "I'm not sure I would've ever gotten the hang of it. Coordination has never been my strong suit."

Alicia smiled in spite of herself. That may have been the truth, but still, she wished he would have at least had the chance. "I know it was difficult for you, that summer after the accident when Andy got to go outside and play and you were stuck in the house most of the time with me and a newborn."

He'd be lying if he said it hadn't stung a little to watch Andy learn to ride that prized blue bike, but that summer after turned out to be one of the best of Artie's life. "I got to learn how to do so many other things though," his smile widened and lit up his entire face. "I learned how to change a diaper, how to play guitar and sing. I learned how to swim-how to do this..." Effortlessly, Artie showed off his practiced skill. Performing a double spin precariously balanced on only one wheel.

"Arthur John, you know it scares me to death when you do those crazy tricks," Alicia stated in mock scolding. Artie's grin was impossibly wide now. Ruffling her fingers through his hair she decided, "You need a hair cut." Artie let out a lighthearted chuckle. Alicia joined in too, then pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "It's getting late," she commented, just now catching a glimpse of how much time had really lapsed.

Artie nodded in agreement and took hold of his wheel rims. "G'night Mom. Love you."

"Love you too Sweetheart," she called out as she watched him diappear from the kitchen. Alicia let out a tired sigh, emotionally drained from the evenings proceedings, but feeling more at ease than she had been in a long time. Which was a good thing considering there was a full sink calling her name.

"I come bearing gifts," Art announced as he entered.

Alicia glanced over her shoulder and rolled her eyes playfully. "Great, more dirty dishes."

"Thought I'd wait 'til you two were all done in here before clearing the table," he replied courteously. Alicia smiled appreciatively and snaked her arm around his waist. Art gave her as squeeze as he asked, "You and Artie okay?" Her eyes shone as brightly as their sons did just as few minutes ago when he'd slapped his father a high five as they passed each other in the hallway. And that was confirmation enough. "Any ice cream left?"

Alicia shook her head and let out a soft giggle. "No, just half a pie."

"That carton was full," Art gasped in mock indignation.

Alicia smiled innocently. "It was full when we started, but to quote Artie..."it was _that_ kind of night"."

Art nodded. "I know what you mean."

"Did the kids give you trouble?" she inquired apologetically.

"No, not at all," he assured her. "Got Abbey bathed, dressed and into bed, and all by eight-thirty." Art noticed the skeptical look his wife was giving him. Abbey never went to bed without her important nightly ritual which consisted of a bedtime story read by her favorite storyteller and a song sung by her favorite vocalist, which conveniently happened to be the same person...Artie. Art chuckled. "I had to read her three stories and play an entire cd before she finally fell asleep."

That made Alicia's smile return. "And Andy?"

"Well he watched about an hour of tv, then played an hour or so of video games before announcing around nine-thirty that..."now would probably be a good time to start my homework-."

Alicia let out a small groan and shook her head in disbelief. "What are we going to do with him?"

Art chuckled in reply. "We'll figure that out tomorrow. Why don't you go to bed? I got this."

"You sure?" Alicia asked tentatively.

Art nodded. "Yes, you're tired." And she was.

Alicia had just finished planting an appreciative kiss to her husbands cheek, when she let out a small shriek of disappointment. "The commercial, we missed it."

"I Tivo-ed it," he returned, and reciprocated the kiss. "We can all watch it tomorrow."

"How was it?" she queried playfully, knowing full well that he'd already watched it. Busted.

"It was good," he answered, blushing slightly. "Those kids are amazing."

"Yeah, especially that adorable one with the dark hair and glasses," she boasted irrefutably.

Art's proud smile proved he couldn't agree more. "Go Leesh. I'll be up in a few."

Alicia shuffled from the room, heading for the stairs via the dinning room, when something shiny caught her eye. She walked over to find Artie's phone still sitting on the table. As she grasped it, a random button was hit and up popped the photo of Artie 'jumping' on a large mattress. With as smile gracing her face, Alicia scrolled through the other pictures in gallery as she walked down the hall to return the phone to Artie's room.

Alicia wasn't sure what to expect when she opened the door to her oldest sons room, but what she saw when she got there, warmed her heart. She couldn't help but back out of the photo gallery and add this sweet, innocent image to it. Abbey snuggled up against her brother, an open book at their side, and a shared melody floating between them.

Let it Be.

Once she snapped the shot, Alicia set the phone on the nightstand and proceeded to lift the book from Artie's limp hand. She then set out to carefully remove his glasses from his face, and gently pluck the earpieces they were sharing from each of their ears, before lifting Abbey into her arms. Both stirred, but neither woke and Alicia carried her daughter back up to her room, softly humming the familiar tune.

**_ANx2-Gah, it's done. And my longest chapter ever. Sorry for the delay, but again this one morphed into more than it originally was. I'm currently in the process of writing another fic, heavily featuring Artie(and this family I've created for him), but not with him as the main character. Curious? I sure hope so! That will be coming out shortly. _**


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